


between two lungs

by demios



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Fluff and Smut, M/M, Marriage, Selectively Mute Character, Trans Male Character, this is just...really vanilla
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-22
Updated: 2019-02-22
Packaged: 2019-11-02 03:09:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17879954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demios/pseuds/demios
Summary: Gestalt isn't fond of invoking the Twelve, but Aelin makes him feel nothing less than divine.





	between two lungs

**Author's Note:**

  * For [floaromas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/floaromas/gifts), [azureforest](https://archiveofourown.org/users/azureforest/gifts).



> written at the behest of a friend - she and another friend's characters got married so here's somethin small to celebrate!

Gestalt wakes to the sun unceremoniously blinding him through the window, still wrapped in coverlets yet resisting the urge to simply sink further down into the sheets. He props himself on his elbows in the bed, stretches with a satisfied noise, and runs a hand through his hair. It’s still wound in a braid, threads of gold glimmering in the sun between the dried flowers and feathers tucked into his woven locks.

Flickers of last night pass through his mind - there had been vows, congratulations, Aelin dancing in the moonlight as if channeling Menphina herself, and perhaps a _touch_ too much Realm Reborn Red passed around. But the vestiges don’t linger long, the slight throbbing of his temples already receding when his gaze lands on his companion still hiding in the covers. Aelin’s hair, so meticulously slicked back the night before, falls flat into messy bangs again. His facepaint has smeared some, likely making a home on the pillowcase his cheek is squashed against. Gestalt is privately thankful they had the decency to shuck off their wedding suits before collapsing in the bed, one set neatly hung in the inn room’s closet while the other is strewn carelessly across the floor.

“Good morning, my love.” A sleepy smile graces Gestalt’s lips as he leans over to kiss the top of Aelin’s head. “Or should I say, my husband?” The elezen takes a moment to admire the ring of carved bone on his finger, the ornament so lovingly presented to him in the chapel.

Aelin lets out a grumpy _mrrp_ when he stirs, ears flicking in minute irritation. One day blessedly free from being the realm’s errand boy and Gestalt is _still_ an early bird. Typical. But he's forgiven when one hand is scratching behind his furry ears as the elezen delivers a kiss to his cheek.

Some of the white paint stains Gestalt’s lips when he pulls away, the miqo’te notes with a humming satisfaction. The paint was meant to be shared by lovers, but Aelin didn't have the opportunity to turn Gestalt’s face into his personal canvas because they were being called away for vows and the rest of the stuffy formalities. Feeling both fond and facetious, he smudges some of the white from his own face, then traces the mirror of his own pattern on Gestalt’s cheekbones. _There._

Gestalt blushes wonderfully at the gesture, drinking in any affection his lover has to offer him. Aelin doesn’t speak of home often, but the thought that he trusts him enough to let him be privy to Keeper traditions makes Gestalt’s heart swell. Aelin makes a delighted scoff at that, already clinging to Gestalt’s shoulders and wedging himself between the elezen’s long legs. He kisses his now-husband slow and sweet, in a proper greeting.

“My wonderful, darling, husband.” Gestalt murmurs against his lips, relishing the way the term tastes right on his tongue. “You're so charming. Did you know that?”

Aelin pulls away and looks at him incredulously from under cowlicks and mussed hair.

“Too noisy,” Aelin finally huffs, nipping Gestalt’s bottom lip. Ah. So Aelin is in _that_ sort of mood. That's fine with him, and he spreads his legs wider to accommodate his lover, the feeling of warm skin on his own relaxing. They're only in their underthings, but Gestalt doesn't feel cold in the slightest with Aelin in his arms.

Aelin is silent but his dancing touch sings - Gestalt hears his song with each brush of his fingertips, every playful hint of fangs against his skin. The miqo’te moves down to his collar, where a necklace of bones - shed fangs, forgotten claws, hollow wings - hangs from Gestalt’s neck. Another gift from Aelin, a sign of his devotion when he spent countless nights in the Shroud searching for the perfect pieces to string together. He removes the wreath of bones from Gestalt’s shoulders with reverence, with the same careful joy when he slipped it over his head. It’s placed on the nightstand with a muffled clatter, and Aelin kisses the skin where the bones covered. He presses his lips to Gestalt’s collar and neck, featherlight with a flicker of heat when Aelin is leaving marks in his wake.

When the end of Gestalt’s braid tickles his nose, Aelin turns his attention to undoing it. He plucks each dried flower and feather from Gestalt’s braid and leaves them on the pillows, crafting a halo of petals and color about him. Aelin graces his crown and temple with kisses when each ornament is removed, adorning Gestalt in his adoration instead. Gestalt lets out a happy sigh, letting Aelin tug his hair out of his braid. It falls in golden waves around his shoulders, catching the stray rays of the morning sun.

Aelin’s touch travels further to trace the shape of one pointed ear. He holds his lover still with a hand caressing his jaw, so that he can have his way with him. Elezen are notorious for being weak there and Aelin, the _absolute terror_ that he is, intends to exploit this fact to the fullest. The first brush over his ear makes Gestalt tense, his senses immediately on high alert. He can hear Aelin’s focused breaths near his cheek and his own heartbeat growing faster and faster. The miqo’te slowly drags one claw along the shell of his ear, not sharp enough to hurt, but enough that it makes Gestalt’s stomach flutter with anticipation. One particularly sensitive segment makes the elezen whine, a bright red settling high on his cheeks and a shiver jolting up his spine. Aelin finishes with a nip to his ear lobe, then to the thin scar on his cheek, pecking the bridge of his nose before releasing his grip on Gestalt’s face.

The moment of calm that follows is fleeting because Aelin is rubbing himself against his thigh, making a needy noise that brings Gestalt back to the matter at hand. They're so close now - Gestalt can see his eyes, bright and nothing short of voracious. He only smiles, coaxes Aelin off him, and falls to his knees at the side of the bed. The miqo’te hastily pulls off his underthings and swings his legs around so they frame the other’s head, his rosy arousal on full display for the other. He doesn't feel a hint of shame, licking his lips like a hungry coeurl as he watches Gestalt settle between his thighs.

Aelin’s tail flicks in interest when Gestalt starts from the inside of one thigh, leaving a trail of butterfly kisses before meeting the tender skin at his core. He slowly dips his tongue inside Aelin, hot and wet against his walls and tasting his essence. Aelin rocks his hips against Gestalt’s face, encouraging him to _stop being a damned prude and fuck him properly._ The elezen works his tongue in earnest now, breathing deep of Aelin’s scent. One hand reaches around to cup his ass and fondle the base of his tail, and it sends a wonderful sensation of sparks up his spine that makes him gasp and twitch around Gestalt.

Gestalt pauses, verdant gaze flicking upwards to meet Aelin’s eyes from under long lashes. The sight makes Aelin’s arousal throb - his lover’s face is flushed and he only offers Gestalt an indulgent smile before he’s gently taking the back of his head and pressing his face against his sex again. _You're doing well; keep going._

Aelin’s thighs tremble around Gestalt’s head and he fists a hand in his thick hair, needing something to ground him. The grip makes Gestalt’s scalp pleasantly burn, the intermittent tugs at his locks making tears prick the corner of his eyes, but not in any way that would make him stop. How can he, when he aches to give Aelin what he wants, what he _needs_ \- and, oh, Gestalt is doing something unfair with his tongue now and Aelin lets out a surprised cry, roughly pulling the elezen off him.

Gestalt looks like a mess, drool and slick around his mouth, lips swollen and hair tangled. Aelin leans down kisses him anyways, tucking a lock of stray hair behind Gestalt’s ear.

He’s left eager and wanting from Gestalt’s ministrations - the elezen notices a trail of slick stuck to the inside of one thigh when Aelin rights himself. Gestalt is impatiently pulled up from where he’s on his knees in what may as well be prayer, and pushed back onto the bed. Aelin straddles his hips and brushes the neglected cock straining against his smallclothes, drawing forth a sharp inhale from Gestalt. He had been so focused on pleasuring the other he had forgotten how aroused he was - the elezen tenses, gasping loudly because the almost painful spike of sudden relief hits him full force like it’s their first time.

Aelin notices - of course Aelin notices, because he takes the hem of Gestalt’s underpants and pulls them off with one smooth motion, tossing them to the floor. The feat leaves Gestalt bare, thighs open, and cock twitching against his stomach, making Aelin’s face split into a feral grin. He gently places a hand on Gestalt’s sternum, taking note of the lovely blush that's spread all the way down to his collar and rubs soothing patterns into the skin bared for him - and then quickly takes Gestalt's arousal in hand, hurriedly stroking it and making him jerk against the hand on his chest.

Aelin is feeling generous today, or perhaps miffed they didn't get a chance to do anything on their wedding night, because his infamous teasing is cut short. (Although, it's not as if Gestalt needs the reminder that he's always at the miqo’te’s mercy.)

Without prelude he sinks onto Gestalt’s length, the wet heat making the elezen shiver and whine beneath him. His hair is spread over the pillow in disarray, his lips slightly parted for breath, and his hands grasp the sheets for purchase. Aelin admires the view without restraint as Gestalt whimpers beneath him like this - it's _impossibly_ adorable, further stoking the arousal lowly burning in his abdomen.

Tears threaten to form at the corner of Gestalt’s eyes again, because Aelin is so damned _beautiful_ when they're connected like this. He loses himself in the slow pace of his lover’s hips as the other acclimates to the feeling of being filled. Aelin gradually builds up to a steady pace, involuntarily tightening when Gestalt’s cock is brushing decadent spots deep inside him. His mouth falls open and his head tips back, eyes closed as he moans quietly. Aelin’s tail curls in pleasure when he hits the angle he likes, and Gestalt shallowly bucks his hips in an attempt to repeat the motion. His fangs are visible from here, and Gestalt is overcome with the urge to kiss him if it weren't for the palms pressing down on his torso.

The bed is creaking now in an obvious rhythm with Aelin’s hips and Gestalt has half a mind to tell him, _Aelin, this is an inn room, we can’t be so disruptive-_ but he looks radiant, bathed in the morning sun with his head thrown back. And when he meets Gestalt’s eyes - that brilliant gaze the color of pure aether - the elezen thinks maybe he _was_ blessed by the Mothercrystal after all, because Gestalt feels nothing short of divine at this moment. His hands frame Aelin’s hips and he thrusts to meet the other halfway, burying himself deeper than before and setting both their nerves alight. His lover outright growls at that, then claims his mouth with his own, claws digging into his collar and desperately holding on as he's swept away by it all.

 _“Ehsk in an,”_ Gestalt shakily sighs into his mouth. His heart feels so terrifically full, his senses filled with Aelin, and he can't fathom how life would be without his dear friend, lover, _husband._

Aelin greedily swallows the debauched noise that falls from his lips as he tenses and spills inside him. The miqo’te follows soon after, rocking his hips until his moans are mingling with Gestalt’s. A pleasant haze tinges both of their senses, the last aftershocks waning until it's just the sound of their own labored breathing in the inn room again. Aelin makes a hum that sounds close to a purr, when Gestalt is absently thumbing the scars at the dip of his hips.

Aelin is boneless against him when he settles in the crook of the elezen’s neck, whining in protest when he slides out. He'd rather just sleep, but Gestalt is distracting when he's constantly moving, gently cleaning between his lover’s legs and urging him to stay awake.

“You know we _do_ have plans for the day, don't you?” He says, quietly chastising his husband. Aelin pretends not to hear from where he's curled up, despite the fact that his ears flick petulantly.

There's a light sigh from the other. “Fine, half a bell, then. Come here.” The elezen settles back into the bed against his better judgement.

Aelin rolls over, immediately latching onto Gestalt with his tail shamelessly wrapping around his leg. Gestalt brushes back his bangs and plants a kiss to his forehead, treasuring the soft puff of laughter that it elicits as the mid-morning sun fills the room.

**Author's Note:**

>  _Ehsk in an_ \- I love you (attempted translation to Dragonspeak)


End file.
